Deep Cover
by anonythemouse
Summary: Though tragic loss had scarred her soul, former FBI agent Quinn Fabray agreed to one last job: to extract 'Phantom' from deep cover. The extrication went like clockwork until their covers were blown and they were forced on the run. Although Quinn trained for situations like these, nothing could have prepared her for the impact of 'Phantom's' presence...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Greetings, everyone!**

**Well, after four months, I'm back with a new story. Yippee! :)**

**This is different from all of my other stories (except my one one-shot) in that it's set in the present time. Although I prefer historical stories and plan on more of those in the future, a promise is a promise, and this prompt was one of the winners from the "poll" (of sorts) at the end of _All That's Best_. Anyway, I hope it's okay. :)**

**Also! Note the rating. Not only is this story set in a different time period from my other stories, but I also have decided that this story couldn't be written with any other rating than M, so I'm lifting my ban on writing...sexual themes...for this story *gulps nervously*.**

**Anywho, so, without further ado, the first chapter; enjoy!**

* * *

It had been too easy. Too damn easy, thought Quinn Fabray as she surveyed the elegant ballroom of Finn Hudson's estate. The plan to get her into the employ of the wealthy banker had come together without a hitch. It had all gone like a perfectly choreographed dance.

The ease of it only made her edgy and more vigilant.

Some unseen sharpshooter had taken a wild shot at Hudson, and Quinn had been on hand to shield the tall man with what she could of her body. Instant gratitude and a generous job offer. Quinn had wondered, several times, why she hadn't shoved Hudson into the path of the bullet. Dead was a more sure-fire way to punish a man than the prospect of a jail term.

Only five days into the operation, and she wanted out. She had cursed herself a thousand times over for letting Leroy Berry coerce her into helping. The daily doses of Hudson's arrogance were more than she could stomach. The urge to strangle the man with her bare hands grew stronger every time she laid eyes on him.

Undercover work had definitely lost its appeal. The innate hunger for a challenge that had motivated her when she was a new agent was nonexistent now. She had left the FBI four years ago when the taste for intrigue died along with her partner.

Despite being on Hudson's payroll, she had yet to be contacted by the elusive agent with the code name Phantom. Her assignment was to help the undercover FBI agent escape Hudson's heavily guarded compound. Deputy Director Berry had lured her out of retirement with a promise that Phantom had gathered enough concrete evidence to make Hudson pay for his crimes.

Quinn was tired of waiting and at risk of losing her patience altogether.

"She's a first-class babe, ain't she."

Quinn glanced at her fellow employee. Noah "Puck" Puckerman was young, cocky, and a little dim-witted, but basically an okay guy. The two of them were usually paired as driver and bodyguard for high-ranking members of Hudson's little empire.

Tonight, they were enjoying the annual staff appreciation dinner. Hudson knew how to keep his people happy and loyal by pretending they were important to him. The ballroom's many chandeliers had been dimmed to a soft, intimate glow. Food was abundant, booze flowed freely, and a small orchestra played music for dancing.

Puck's admiring gaze was fastened on their hostess for the evening.

"You mean Hudson's fiancé?"

"She's a real knockout, and damn nice, too. Always doin' something for the staff and their families."

_Nice_ wasn't exactly the word Quinn would use to describe Hudson's very young, very blonde girlfriend. Definitely a May-December relationship. Gossip had it that she had moved in with him as soon as they had announced their engagement. Apparently, he adored her and refused her nothing.

"I guess she can afford to be generous."

"Yeah, but I seen plenty of those rich bitches who turn their noses up at people like us. 'Fraid they'll get dirty if we touch 'em or somethin'. Jessica, she's not that way."

Quinn had never been introduced to the lady in question. Nor did she want to be. She couldn't summon much interest in a woman who would sleep with a bastard like Hudson.

"I don't think I will be getting up close and personal with the boss's fiancé."

The young man laughed. "That's what you think. She's makin' her way toward us now. She and the boss, they have this little routine. When he hires a new employee, she's the one that gets up close and personal. The boss gets a kick out of watchin' the hired help drool. She'll have you pantin' after her in a few minutes, even if you don't like chicks."

_Oh, hell_, thought Quinn. Puck usually knew what he was talking about when it came to his boss's habits. She ground her teeth in frustration. The last thing she needed was attention drawn to her, especially for Hudson's amusement.

Their hostess slowly made her way through the throng of partygoers, stopping to speak to several people as she crossed the room. Everyone wanted a word with the lady of the manor. Quinn watched her graceful, unhurried progress and steeled herself to suffer the short blonde's attention. It wouldn't do to make her distaste evident. Better to play the dumb but awed hired hand.

"Damn, but she looks hot in that red dress," muttered Puck. "Too bad she never strays for real. I'd be first in line to jump her delicate bones."

Hudson's fiancé was petite—probably five foot one or two, with a slender but generously curved figure. As she drew closer, Quinn's gaze drifted down her elegant neck, across the bare, unblemished skin of her shoulders and chest to an enticing view of softly rounded breasts displayed by the strapless dress.

The full-length evening gown managed to look both tasteful and wickedly provocative. Quinn would have to be dead not to react. Her heavy mane of platinum blonde hair parted in the middle and framed an oval-shaped face in feathery layers. Although not classically beautiful, Jessica's features were striking, attractive, and enhanced to perfection.

The best money could buy. She had to be an unprincipled gold digger who had sold her soul to the highest bidder. That alone should leave Quinn cold, but her body wasn't listening to common sense. It was just reacting.

Wide-set, exotically highlighted blue eyes captured Quinn's attention and held her gaze as the short blonde came to a stop in front of her. Quinn felt the impact of Jessica's gaze clear to her toes. Her expensive perfume teased Quinn's senses, and set her nerves alive with reaction. The sizzle of attraction hummed through her veins at the sultry challenge in those beautiful blue eyes.

"T.R.O.U.B.L.E." The lyrics to a country-western song popped into her mind. Hudson's ladylove packed a sensual wallop that could mean nothing but trouble.

"Ms. Jackson." She greeted Quinn by her alias and offered her hand. "I don't believe we've been introduced." Her voice was soft and sexy, barely audible above the noise of the party. "I wanted to thank you personally for saving Finn's life."

Quinn briefly grasped her hand, but kept her grip limp. Jessica responded with a warm, firm grasp. Her touch made Quinn's skin tingle with awareness.

Jessica smiled, transforming her features to unexpected loveliness. It gave Quinn another jolt. Not just because of the physical difference, but because of the genuine warmth and charm the shorter woman emanated. No wonder she had the staff ready to jump her bones or jump through hoops for her. Warning herself to beware of wolves in sheep's clothing, Quinn briefly returned the smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"There's no need to call me ma'am. We are all one big family here. My name is Jessica," she said, and then asked, "And your first name is Samantha?"

"Sam's fine."

For this assignment, Quinn was wearing a red wig. Thanks to tinted contacts, her hazel eyes were temporarily a deep green. Her naturally fair complexion had always made it easy for her to take on an Irish look.

"Well, Sam, I certainly hope you're enjoying yourself. Did you get enough to eat?"

"Yes, ma'am—I mean, Jessica."

She smiled again—a smile meant to reach right into someone and make them relax. Maybe even threaten their control. Quinn felt another unexpected zing of physical awareness, but hardened herself to the response.

"Do you dance, Sam?" Jessica asked.

She glanced toward Puck, who was giving her a cheesy grin and a sly thumbs-up behind Jessica's back. Then Quinn looked toward the dance floor. Several couples were shuffling around to a slow tune, but she wasn't eager to join them.

"I'm not much for dancing," she insisted.

Jessica curled her fingers around Quinn's forearm, smiled, and batted her lashes with the finesse of a siren.

"Please, don't be shy. I promise I won't step on your feet," she teased. "I would feel honored if you would share at least one dance with me."

Quinn glanced at Hudson. "Sure the boss won't mind?"

Jessica's husky laughter shivered along Quinn's nerves. "I promise the boss won't mind. He thinks it's important for a hostess to mingle with her guests."

She gently but firmly led Quinn to a shadowed corner of the dance floor, and then fitted herself snuggly against her body. Heat radiated through Quinn at every point of contact. Jessica's hands slid up her chest to settle lightly on her shoulders, and she tilted her head back to study Quinn's face.

Quinn returned her steady gaze while her sense feasted on the blonde's warmth, the sweetness of her scent, and the full, firm breasts pressed against her chest. Quinn slid her hands down Jessica's back to her waist and enjoyed the feel of the taut feminine body wrapped in soft, silky fabric. Her fingers tightened convulsively.

It felt good to hold her. Really good, yet disturbing. _Wrong place, wrong time, wrong woman,_ her brain insisted while her body vibrated with pleasure. It had been too long since Quinn had felt such a rush of sexual response to a woman. Her deprived hormones were going haywire, but there was no sense fighting the reaction. _Might as well enjoy the moment, _she though with a mental shrug.

"Tell me about yourself, Sam," Jessica coaxed, sounding as though she really cared.

Quinn wondered if the attentive attitude was all part of a well-orchestrated game she played with Hudson. Her lover never made a move without a carefully thought-out plan. Did Jessica support him in his sick games? Would she tempt Quinn with her smile and body, and then chuckle about her response in bed tonight?

At the thought, a shaft of anger pierced Quinn, but she swiftly controlled it. Jessica's eyes widened a little, making Quinn wonder if the shorter woman sensed her tension. Maybe she would attribute it to sexual frustration.

"There's not much to tell," Quinn finally answered.

"Everybody has something to tell," she urged, subtly shifting closer to the redhead.

Quinn grew even more tense as Jessica swayed against her, held her gaze with her beautiful, beguiling eyes, and pleaded for a response.

"Everybody has likes and dislikes," Jessica said. "Favorite books or TV shows or movies."

When she failed to respond, Jessica continued, undaunted. "I enjoy movies myself, but I'm especially fond of the theater. Have you ever seen the classic _Phantom of the Opera_?"

Quinn froze. Her muscles locked and her mind went blank for an instant. "_Phantom of the Opera_." The code for recognizing Berry's undercover operative. She had been waiting for someone in the organization to use that phrase. A phrase no other member of Hudson's family or staff was likely to use.

She stared at the blonde's perfect, pouting lips, wondering if she had misinterpreted the message. The undercover agent's nickname, Phantom, registered in her mind, but she couldn't reconcile the fact that the beautiful, possibly treacherous woman in her arms was one of the FBI's top operatives.

Hudson's lover? Berry had said Phantom was deep in the organization, but this staggered the mind. Quinn couldn't imagine any agent being dedicated enough or reckless enough to sleep with the enemy. Nor could she imagine the deputy director condoning it, however badly he wanted Hudson brought to justice.

She had to be missing something.

Jessica gently nudged her into motion, and Quinn automatically took the lead again. She stared into her dance partner's blue eyes. Were they glittering with satisfaction, or warning? Was her expression taunting Quinn for her unprofessional reaction?

The blonde's smooth voice interrupted her thoughts. "Am I boring you, Sam? You seem to have gone into a trance."

Quinn didn't have to be a genius to realize she had blown her cover like a raw recruit. At least where Phantom was concerned. Allowing herself to be caught so totally off guard could get her killed. Might still get her killed if she didn't pull it together.

Quinn continued to stare at the shorter woman, studying the tan skin of her cheeks, highlighted with just the slightest hint of natural blush, the lips that glistened with lipstick as red as her gown.

She silently cursed Berry for setting her up to extricate a female agent. Her last partner had infiltrated Hudson's organization, too, but she hadn't made it out alive: Maggie – her partner, best friend, and lover. The thought of her made Quinn's breath hitch. Maggie had given her life for the job, and Quinn had never forgiven herself for not being there to protect her.

Jessica slid her hands around to Quinn's back and flexed her fingers against the bare skin there, the blonde's nails scoring her and jarring her back to the present.

"Cat got your tongue?" she whispered.

Her touch lit a fire beneath Quinn's skin, making her blood run hotter. Quinn fought the wave of heat and racked her brain for the code Berry had given to verify her own identity. She recalled the answer and recovered some control.

"I don't know anything about phantoms," she declared exactly as she had been coached. "I don't like that dramatic stuff. I prefer comedies, like _Funny Girl_."

Jessica's smile widened. She batted her lashes flirtatiously even though her eyes sparkled with keen intelligence. A paradox, to be sure, but could Quinn trust her? She continued to scrutinize every feature of the shorter woman's face, her mind still coming to terms with all that she had heard about Phantom, all she had learned about Hudson's fiancé, and what a hell of a tangle the whole assignment had just become.

According to her instructions, Phantom was the agent in charge of the rest of the assignment. Once they had made contact, Quinn had been ordered to let Phantom orchestrate the escape strategy. She waited, barely breathing, for the other woman to make the next move.

"I like you, Sam. I think I'll have Finn reassign you as my personal driver."

Her throaty announcement was accompanied by seductively running her hand down Quinn's back, just as the music came to an end. But the ploy to tease her backfired. Heat simmered between them; the intimate connection sparked and crackled. Blood sizzled beneath Quinn's skin, and she knew that Jessica felt it, too.

The blonde's brow creased at the undeniable attraction. Annoyance shimmered briefly in her blue eyes before being quickly replaced by iron determination, and then her more proper hostess façade.

In any other circumstance, Quinn would have laughed out loud at the telltale crack in her armor. Quinn wasn't the only one who had been caught off guard by a spark of desire. Maybe in the future Phantom would be more careful about teasing someone.

"What do you think, Sam?" she prodded, her tone edged with impatience. "Want to be my personal driver?"

"I would be honored, ma'am."

"Jessica," she insisted. Then she slipped out of Quinn's arms and strolled off the dance floor.

Quinn watched her closely, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips as she moved across the room, and wondering if she had just signed her own death warrant.

One thing was for sure: this assignment would be coming to an end soon. Adrenaline pumped through her veins at the knowledge. She had finally been offered a real challenge, to get Phantom out of harm's way and to the FBI's safe house. Berry had sworn the evidence Phantom had collected would be enough to nail Hudson.

Both prospects spurred Quinn's excitement, fueling a long-suppressed need. She could have done without the sexual jolt, but she was an expert at tamping down those flames.

"What'd I tell ya, Sam?" Puck met her as she left the dance floor. Handing her a cold beer, he elaborated. "She's something, ain't she? I'll bet that's the first time you ever held such a classy piece of sugar in your arms. You looked a little star struck."

Quinn glanced sharply at the man beside her. So Puck had noticed her momentary confusion. Damn. How many others had witnessed her involuntary reaction? She had been so distracted that she had lost objectivity. A good agent had to be observant at all times. Lives depended upon it.

Swallowing a long drag of beer, she comforted herself with the fact that she wasn't a field operative anymore. Now she was the owner of a small bookshop in a sleepy Colorado town who had been dragged back into service. Just a civvie doing a deferred duty. Her pride still stung, but she figured she could live with another dent in her ego.

"Hudson must be crazy to turn her loose on his employees," she finally said, wondering if the light insult to their boss would be tolerated.

Puck just chuckled.

"He's crazy, all right. If she was my woman, I'd keep her chained to the bed. Preferably in the buff."

Quinn felt a spurt of annoyance and disgust at the lewd suggestion, but she quickly stifled it. An explicit, erotic image followed, teasing her with a slender, shapely body all soft and naked and needy in bed. Regardless of her name or game, Quinn had to admit she wouldn't mind getting more intimate with her body.

For that reason, Quinn avowed sexy Jessica/Phantom off-limits. She prided herself on learning from her mistakes, and the biggest of her life had been getting involved with another agent. Her relationship with Maggie had sent up all sorts of red flags, yet Quinn had arrogantly ignored the warnings. Maggie's death had been an emotional blow she never wanted to repeat.

Foul play or fair, the lovely Phantom had prostituted herself to the scum of the Earth. Quinn believed in honor and duty, but not if it meant selling your soul to further your career. Nothing Phantom could do or say would ever erase the facts, and that dropped her desirability to zilch.

* * *

Jessica made her way back to Hudson's side on legs that weren't as steady as she would have liked. Her heart pounded, her breasts felt full and tight, and her skin was flushed with heat. The intensity of her arousal was unsettling. She didn't appreciate the way her body had come alive in a stranger's arms.

For most of her adult life, she had existed in sexual limbo, devoid of any burning desire beyond professional duty. She had met and dated a few men she found attractive, but none who had made her wild with desire. She had never been easily aroused and had resigned herself to the fact that she must somehow be lacking.

The emotional and physical reserve was an advantage to her career, if not her personal life. Now, all of a sudden and at the worst possible time, she had experienced the hots for a total stranger, and a woman at that. It had to be the mental strain and incredible tension of the situation, she decided, shaking her head.

She reached Finn's side, and he pulled her hand through the crook of his arm. His touch was cold compared to the soft, feminine heat she had just experienced. She repressed a shiver of revulsion.

Three heads taller than her, Hudson was of average build but fit, his spine ramrod straight. He had somewhat handsome, aristocratic features with brown eyes. His personal hairstylist made sure the color of his hair stayed the same dark brown, so that he looked younger than his sixty years.

His expression was affectionate and approving. She gave him a practiced smile that hid her true feelings. It wouldn't do for him to know how much she despised him, from his polished looks to his ugly black soul. When they had first met, it was all she could do to keep from recoiling at his touch, but she had hardened herself to that emotional weakness.

The past few months had been an ongoing nightmare. The only thing that kept her sane was the knowledge that it would be over soon. Hudson had destroyed her family, and now she had the evidence to prove it.

She forced herself to slip back into the role of fiancé and hostess. She had made it her life's work to bring him to justice, but the only way to do that had been to get close, really close. It meant drawing on incredible reserves of strength, and it got more difficult each day, but she had worked too long and hard to fail now.

"What did you think of the new girl?" he asked.

"She seems nice enough – a little lacking in personality, perhaps, but pleasant. Is she a good driver?"

"Nearly as good as Puck."

"In that case, you should have Puck driving for you again. You're on the road more than I am. If the new girl is good, then I'm sure I will be safe with her."

Finn patted her hand. "Your wish is my command," he insisted. "You'll be perfectly safe with Sam. She knows that I'm fanatic about my future wife's welfare."

She smiled, forcing her expression into one of warmth and gratitude. It was imperative that she keep up appearances. He thought her a well-bred, sophisticated socialite, so that's the part she had played for the past few months.

He had proposed to her in an effort to garner more respect. For Finn, image was everything. Respect was a living, breathing entity. He had spent a lifetime accumulating wealth and power in the hopes that it would buy him the respect he so badly craved.

That was why he had decided to pursue a partnership with one of North Carolina's oldest and most reputable import-export companies. He wasn't satisfied with ruling his own small empire. He wanted to prove his respectability to the whole community.

As a prominent banker, he was welcomed into many social circles, but he wanted a foot in the door of the most elite. He had been advised to marry someone who would be an asset to his home and social life. That's where she had stepped into the scene.

He boasted that he was a hardworking man who had realized the American dream. The story he gave the medial was one of rags to riches: a life so dedicated to work that he had had no time for personal relationships. In reality, his wealth stemmed from a lifetime of carefully coordinated crimes. He owned several offshore banks where he laundered drug money and practiced tax evasion.

But that wasn't why she wanted to bring him down. He had far greater sins to answer for. One was the murder of an undercover FBI agent. Another was the slaughter of a small, law-abiding family. Hers. She had put her life on the line to bring him to justice. And when she did, maybe, just maybe, she could shed a heavy burden of guilt that never seemed to ease.

Another glance at Finn sent a shiver down her spine. She wondered, yet again, whether he was somehow aware of her double life.

* * *

**A/N: Oooo, intrigue...And Faberry meets already! Yay!**

**I hope you all liked this chapter! Chapter 2 to follow soon, hopefully! :) **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Greetings, everyone!**

**Well, I've had half of this chapter written since September...What can I say? Lots of craziness has happened in my life.**

**Reviews:**

_**MC, who so eloquently quipped: "**_**UGHH! WHAT'S TAKING SO LONG..." - Life, my friend. Life.**

_**noneed4names:**_** Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like it so far, and I'm sorry for the long wait for an update. I wish I were still in school and had lots of time to update like I used to. :/ Anywho, no, I went to UNC for undergrad, but I had some acquaintances who were from Fayetteville. The FSU in my profile is actually Florida State (grad school, bleh), but I can see where you might have though Fayetteville. :)**

**Shout out to _bluecapri_ for being so kind and awesome and inspiring me to fit some writing into my schedule! :)**

**Without further ado, chapter two! Lol, that rhymed.**

* * *

Three days after the party, Quinn got orders to drive Jessica to a beauty salon in Elizabeth City. Quinn deliberately thought of her by her alias to distance herself from the woman behind the façade. Every time Quinn's fantasies drifted toward the feel of the shorter woman in her arms, she quickly slammed the door on her memory.

Jessica preferred to travel in a Mercedes, and Quinn had no complaints. It handled like a dream and had plenty of power plus bulletproof windows. Quinn hoped Jessica's escape plan didn't include a shoot-out, but she wanted to be prepared for any eventuality.

Max, one of Hudson's most trusted bodyguards, accompanied them. Big and muscular, he looked like a brainless bull moose, but looks were deceiving. He moved faster than a jackrabbit and was nobody's fool. His responsibilities included escorting Jessica into the salon and waiting there while she had her hair styled. Hudson was notoriously protective of all of his possessions, especially his fiancé.

Quinn waited in the car, surveying the area for any sign of other guards on Hudson's payroll. Security had tightened in the past few days, making her wonder if their assignment had been compromised. She sensed that Jessica would make her move soon. Quinn expected her to enact her plan in the dark of night, not the middle of a bright summer day, but she wouldn't be caught off guard again.

An hour after entering the salon, Jessica exited, looking every inch the pampered socialite. Her jeans were designer tight, accenting rounded hips and surprisingly long legs. She wore red again, this time a full-sleeved blouse, unbuttoned down the front to display a white knit top that hugged soft, full breasts.

Despite the casual wear, there were diamonds at her throat and on her wrists and fingers. The brilliant sunshine caused them to shoot sparks in every direction. The only difference Quinn noticed in her personal appearance was a fuller hairstyle. As well as a purse that was big enough to pass for a suitcase, she also carried a shopping bag with the salon's name on it.

A ripple of awareness spread through Quinn as she watched Jessica's slow, graceful movements. She also felt a pang in her stomach when she saw the shorter woman smile at her escort, but she quickly stifled the feeling.

Max followed a few steps behind her. He opened the back door of the car and held it, while she took a seat, filling the car's interior with her unique, expensive scent. Then he closed the door, opened the front passenger door and settled in the seat beside Quinn.

"Where to? Back to the house?" she asked, glancing at Jessica in the rearview mirror.

"I need to go to Anderson's Jewelers and have the safety catch on my bracelet checked. Do you know where it's located?"

Quinn had spent her spare time learning her way around the city. She knew every alley, intersection, and parking lot, but not every business.

"What's the address?"

"It's out near the strip mall," offered Max.

"The south side of town," Jessica added.

Bingo. So this was it. Her side trip would take them to the edge of the city, close to the freeway interchange. The safe house was to their northwest, but it would be smarter to head south, and then change directions once they were sure they weren't being followed.

Showing no reaction, Quinn nodded and put the car in gear. Her muscles tightened, tension slowly coiling in her as she tried to anticipate how Jessica would neutralize Max. The big man wouldn't be easy to handle.

She waited, alert, as Jessica started rustling through the shopping bag.

"Paulo gave me some samples from his exclusive new perfume line," she told them chattily. "I can't decide which one I like best, so I need both of your opinions."

The high seat backs and headrests prevented Quinn and Max from having a clear view of her, but they heard the _hiss _of an atomizer. Then her small, tan hand reached between the headrests. She put a tissue near Max's face and let him inhale the perfume.

"This one's called Ambrosia," she said, shifting the tissue toward Quinn so she could get a whiff before she withdrew it.

Quinn heard her spraying another sample, and then another tissue was held toward Max's nose. "Now this one is called Sweet Nectar. It has more of a berry scent, don't you agree? I'm not sure I want to smell like fruit. What do you think?"

Max mumbled a vague reply.

Damn. She was good. Quinn hid her grin as she obediently sniffed at the second sample Jessica held near her face. Hudson's henchman wouldn't know what hit him when she finally made her move.

They heard the spray of another atomizer, and she was reaching around the seat again. Then she slapped an ether-soaked cloth over Max's face, holding it tightly with both hands. He grabbed at her wrists, but she had locked his head in a vice between her hands and the headrest. The bodyguard struggled briefly before realizing he couldn't break her hold, and then he reached for the beeper at his belt.

Quinn grabbed his wrist and held tight until the big man sagged into unconsciousness. Then she pressed the window button to let some fresh air into the car so the ether wouldn't affect them.

"So which do you like best?" Jessica continued the charade in case the car was bugged. Then she slithered over the seat and slid between her and Max. The action had her body bumping against Quinn's, the shorter woman's thigh brushing her shoulder and chest. Quinn steeled herself against the feel of her wiggling form.

Quinn offered a noncommittal, "They all smelled good," in response to her question.

"You guys aren't much help with the perfume preferences," Jessica said on a heavy sigh as she shoved Max's limp body closer to the door, maintaining a conversational tone. "I guess I'll leave the choice to Finn. How about some music?"

Quinn switched on the radio and cranked the volume to cover their conversation.

"What next?" she muttered.

"Anyone tailing us?" Jessica's smooth tone had been replaced with a crisp, no-nonsense whisper.

"Puck in a dark green SUV. I can't see who's with him."

"Lose them. I want to dump Max out of here before the ether wears off."

Considering the bodyguard's size, it wouldn't take more than a few minutes for him to recover. Quinn altered their route and headed for a less congested area of town. Once they had cleared the heaviest traffic, she had a better view of the car following them. She made a couple of unexpected turns, and Puck started closing the distance between them.

"He's suspicious," Jessica grumbled, dividing her attention between Max and the car behind them.

The traffic began to thin out as they reached an industrial park. The area was nearly deserted on Saturday, so Quinn made a sharp turn between two huge warehouses. They were nearing the end of the connecting alley when the SUV came into view again.

For the next few minutes, they wove in and out of alleys, slowly increasing their lead. Then Max started to stir.

"Stop in the middle of the next one," said Jessica.

Quinn did as she said, slowing the car enough for the other woman to open the door and nudge Max onto the pavement. The big man fell with a _thud_ and a grunt. She slammed the door, and Quinn floored the accelerator, peeling rubber, as Jessica settled into the bucket seat.

The plan went like clockwork. They were just pulling out of the alley as Puck was forced to stop for a groggy and stumbling Max. The few minutes it took their pursuers to get the extra man into the SUV gave them the time needed to disappear.

Quinn shot out of the complex and turned onto the nearest residential street, and then another, tires squealing. Meeting minimal traffic, she sped up for another few streets, and then made a third turn onto a deserted, tree-lined street.

Pulling into the drive of a small ranch-style house, Quinn quickly punched the code of a remote garage door opener. It slid upward, she drove inside, and the door closed to conceal them from the street.

As soon as she had switched off the ignition, Quinn moved toward the dusty, nondescript black pickup truck parked next to them in the two-car garage. Jessica grabbed her bags, and they jumped from the car.

"Good plan, Jackson. I was afraid we would have to elude Gregory's men in his Mercedes."

"No. Too easy for him to track." Quinn had rented this place to store a getaway vehicle and a few of her personal things. Hudson would probably track down the car if he had it bugged, but not until they were long gone.

They climbed into the truck. She stripped off her dark shirt, leaving her in a white tank top. Then she reached for a baseball cap on the dash, tugged it over her head, and hit the ignition.

"Shouldn't we wait awhile?" Jessica asked apprehensively.

Quinn shook her head. "No, that would be too risky. They've already called for backup, but they won't be looking for a truck with one occupant." Quinn gave her a meaningful glance.

"Got it," Jessica said with a definitive nod, sliding to the floor and crouching out of sight just as Quinn activated the overhead door. She backed the dusty truck from the garage.

Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, Quinn found it hard to control the urge to speed, but she wove back through several residential streets at a sedate pace. As she approached the intersection that led back to the main highway, Quinn spotted the SUV, but it didn't follow as she made the turn.

Within another two miles, they had reached the freeway ramp leading south. As she paused at the yield sign, she spared a glance for her passenger, and then did a double take. Jessica had lost the long blonde hair, apparently a wig, and now had short, spiky red hair. She had also shed her blouse for a white knit top and ditched the jewels along with the pampered princess look.

The new look suited her new role.

Their gazes met, and something dangerously sexy arced between them. Quinn's muscles clenched as the unwelcome heat curled through her bloodstream. Undercover girl became more fascinating with each layer she revealed.

Jessica's instant frown and the tightening of her jaw convinced Quinn that she didn't appreciate the unexpected attraction.

"Got another ball cap?" Jessica asked, breaking the strained silence. "I'm getting a little cramped down here."

Quinn glanced in the rearview mirror again, then handed her a hat. After donning it, she slowly eased into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt. Her tone was terse when she spoke.

"Where are we headed?"

"South for a while," Quinn explained, easing into traffic. "Then we'll be turning north toward the safe house in Virginia."

Jessica nodded.

Quinn thought the diminutive redhead relaxed a little, but she kept a close watch on the traffic around and behind them for an unexpected tail. After a few minutes of silence, Quinn offered a compliment.

"You handled Max like a pro."

Her tone chilled. "I _am _a pro."

Quinn hid her grin. Touchy. She didn't doubt that the mysterious Phantom was one of the best, but she also had to be insane or inconceivably ambitious to live with a slimeball like Hudson. What could possibly motivate such a beautiful young woman to that extent?

Despite doubts about her mental stability, Quinn was finding Jessica more intriguing by the minute, which meant that the sooner they parted ways, the better. Quinn didn't want or need involvement with a sexy, lunatic secret agent. She couldn't deny her yearning for uncomplicated feminine companionship, but there was nothing uncomplicated about her current companion.

Quinn would be glad to have her end of the job finished. A heady sense of freedom rushed through her. In a couple of hours, she could head home to Colorado and know she had done her part in bringing Hudson to justice. The thought brought on a sweet surge of satisfaction.

Jessica withdrew a cell phone from her bag. She punched in a series of numbers. Quinn heard ringing and a pickup. She punched another series of numbers and then snapped the phone closed.

"Notifying someone?" Quinn asked with a raise an eyebrow.

"Berry. He will know we are on our way when he gets a coded message from this number."

It pleased her that Jessica had mentioned Berry's name and that the two of them had the operation so ingeniously coordinated. That meant that there was less of a chance for confusion or errors. Fewer risks meant higher achievement rates.

"So you're the infamous Quinn Fabray?"

Quinn gave her a sharp glance. How had Jessica learned her name? "You've been in regular contact with Berry? Wasn't that risky considering how close Hudson has you guarded?"

"I haven't talked to him, but I knew he planned to contact you. He promised me someone who couldn't be compromised. I have seen your photo in old agency files and read about a few of your accomplishments. I don't remember your hair being red. Dyed?"

"No, a wig," Quinn corrected, a wave of nostalgia tightening in her gut. Jessica was on e of them, one of the FBI's elite force of undercover agents. She had known a few other female officers, and they had her utmost respect. They worked twice as hard as a male agent and rarely got the recognition they deserved. The law-enforcement world was still a male-dominated profession.

Continuing with the line of questioning, Quinn couldn't help querying, "You shed your blonde locks pretty quickly. Are you a natural redhead?"

"No."

Jessica didn't elaborate, which stirred Quinn's imagination. When she realized how curious she was to know more about her fellow operative, she abruptly halted the direction of her thoughts.

"You earned quite a reputation with the agency," Jessica continued, diverting the subject from herself.

Quinn smirked a little before replacing it with a frown. "Not all good," she answered. "I hated the political games."

Jessica's eyes were wide and curious when she asked, "Is that why you quit the agency at the ripe old age of twenty-seven? You just got fed up with the politics?"

"Partly," Quinn quipped.

"So what made you decide to come out of retirement for this job? Did Berry call in markers or do you have a personal vendetta against Finn?"

Quinn ground her teeth to keep from snapping that it was none of her business. Jessica's questions ticked her off, but she supposed the other woman had a right to ask.

"Let's just say I don't owe Berry any favors and leave it at that."

Quinn's passenger wisely didn't pursue the subject. She could believe whatever she wanted, because Quinn didn't plan to offer any details. Jessica didn't need to know about Maggie or the guilt that had haunted her for four years.

Maggie would have admired Jessica, Quinn thought, her chest going tight. She had always wanted to undercover work. When she had finally gotten her big chance, she had walked into a trap that had cost her life. The memory made Quinn angry and restless, so she changed the subject and asked one of the many questions she wouldn't admit she had been eager to hear the answer to.

"Do you have a name besides Phantom or Jessica?" she asked, studying the smaller woman's profile while she stared out the windshield. "Is that your real name or is it a top-level security secret?" Quinn smirked.

She had almost given up on an answer when Jessica finally responded. "You can call me Rachel, if you'd like," she said quietly with a hint of apprehension.

Rachel. She liked it. It sounded soft and feminine. A little inconsistent with what Quinn knew about her, yet appealing.

"That's a pretty name," Quinn offered sincerely.

Rachel hesitated another instant and then added, "It means 'sheep' in Hebrew. My parents always said that I was their little ewe, watched over and protected by the Shepherd."

It wasn't a giant leap of faith, but it was a baby step. Quinn didn't expect much more. She knew how hard it was for an undercover agent to trust anyone after months of being constantly on guard, when a slip of the tongue could blow your cover and end your life. She didn't know how long Rachel had been hiding behind a phony name and background, but she knew it would take her a while to unwind.

Neither of them was inclined to make small talk, so conversation came to a halt. As the miles passed by, they watched the passing scenery, kept an eye on the traffic behind them, and gradually relaxed.

Quinn grew increasingly aware of Rachel's scent, the warmth radiating from her body, and even the soft, steady sound of her breathing. Her senses absorbed everything about Rachel in an intense, disturbing fashion, even while she argued the idiocy of the reaction. She comforted herself with the thought that their forced alliance wouldn't last much longer.

It took them a little over two hours to reach the state line and cross from North Carolina into Virginia. Their destination, a single-story house on the outskirts of Emporia, was easily found. Surrounded by several large bushes and evergreen trees, it sat apart from any neighboring houses.

Quinn turned into the drive, pulled to a stop near the front porch, and shut off the engine.

Tension hiked upward a few degrees as they faced a new and unknown territory. She and Rachel both studied their surroundings for a long time before considering it safe to get out of the truck. Quinn reached for Rachel's bags, but the other woman stopped her.

"Leave them for now."

Quinn's gaze held hers for the first time since they had left Elizabeth City. More tension flashed between them, complicated by a touch of suspicion. Rachel's wary expression didn't surprise Quinn. She wasn't prepared to trust anyone or anything right now. Quinn nodded, understanding the reaction, and climbed out of the truck.

Rachel let her lead the way to the front porch. Quinn found the key where she had been told to look and preceded her inside the house, then stopped.

"Stay put a minute," she said, reaching for the gun she had tucked in the waistband of her jeans.

Rachel ignored the command and accompanied her as she searched the house, checking each room thoroughly and making sure they were alone.

"Everything looks okay," Quinn said a few minutes later as she slowly replaced her gun. "Berry should have gotten your message by now. He will have a couple of agents here to guard the place in an hour or so. They will be coming from D.C., so it shouldn't take them long."

"You're not staying?" Rachel asked with an accusing glance.

Quinn met her gaze and ignored the brief pang of guilt. She set her mouth in a thin line and retorted, "My part of the plan was to get you out of Hudson's estate and to this safe house. That's all I agreed to do."

"So you're ready to disappear?"

The antagonism in her tone had Quinn clenching her jaw. "A week playing lackey to Hudson is more than anyone should have to endure," she argued grimly. "As soon as your bodyguards show up, I'm going home."

Rachel snorted indelicately and changed the subject. "In the meantime, I'm starved," she said. "I think I'll see what kind of food we have stocked."

Quinn's annoyance vanished at the thought of food. It had been a long time since breakfast, and a meal now would help her avoid making extra stops on her way home. She decided not to argue and simply said, "Sounds good to me."

Quinn followed her into the kitchen and watched while Rachel rummaged through the refrigerator. She admired the way the shorter woman's jeans molded to the feminine curves of her hips, thighs, and surprisingly long legs. She would have had to be dead not to notice how well Rachel was put together, but that's as far her interest went – as far as she would _allow_ it to go.

She quickly redirected her attention. Moving to the window, she surveyed the backyard for as far as she could see. The house was secluded; there was no sign of neighbors and everything was quiet.

"Are you eating?" asked Rachel.

Quinn nodded. "Sure."

She turned back and helped Rachel get the food on the table. They put together some sandwiches, opened a bag of potato chips, and ate in silence. Quinn studied her as she, familiarizing herself with Rachel's new punk look. It suited her features as well as the seductive blonde image. She wasn't sure which she preferred. _Not that it matters, _she tried to tell herself.

It seemed that Phantom was a chameleon, as well.

"Do you mind if I ask what you do now that you're not with the agency any longer? Do you still live and work in D.C.?" Quinn was startled from her thoughts by Rachel's questions.

She had never been comfortable discussing her personal life, but she didn't see the harm in small talk. "I moved out west a few years ago."

"Do you still work in law enforcement?"

Quinn shook her head. "No, I'm just a private citizen who minds her own business."

Rachel's brow creased in a frown, and Quinn realized how censorious her commend sounded. Rachel abruptly stopped asking questions and grew quiet, which should have pleased her, but perversely it didn't. They finished their meal in silence and then worked together to clean the kitchen.

After they had taken turns in the bathroom, Quinn switched on the TV in the living room while Rachel paced around the house, checking the contents of cupboards and closets.

She had just stopped her restless prowling and joined Quinn when a knock at the front door startled them.

"Stay out of sight," Quinn told her, heading toward the front of the house while Rachel headed toward the back.

A glance through the peephole showed two familiar faces: Jesse St. James and Will Schuester, both experienced agents she recognized from her days at the bureau. Tucking her gun back in her jeans, she opened the door. They shook hands and exchanged greetings, and then she led the way back to the kitchen.

They found it empty. Quinn glanced at the door, then toward the window, annoyed and confused until noises from the bathroom helped her pinpoint Rachel's location. She heard the toilet flush, some clinking of the toilet tank, and then Rachel called to her for assistance.

"Quinn, could you help me again? This toilet still isn't flushing right."

Quinn had no idea what she was talking about, but she decided to find out. "You guys help yourselves to some lunch. I'll be right back," she said, walking down the short hallway to the bathroom.

To her surprise, her reluctant charge was slipping backward out the narrow window. She spared Quinn a fierce glance, jerked her head toward the front of the house and disappeared.

She flushed the toilet again, stalling for time and making more noise to cover Rachel's actions. Then Quinn followed her out the window, feet first. It was a tight squeeze, and she muffled a grunt as she hit the ground. By the time she had rounded the corner of the house, Rachel was flattening the tires of the agency's sedan with a pocketknife.

"Let's go," she said in a terse whisper, climbing into the truck and quietly closing the door.

"What the hell?" Quinn demanded, but she didn't hesitate to follow her lead. All she could do was trust Rachel's instincts until she knew what had spooked her.

"The guy who called you a renegade retiree," Rachel explained shortly.

"Schuester?" Quinn asked in disbelief.

"I don't know his name, but I recognized his voice. I've heard it on Finn's private phone."

"Sonofabitch!" Quinn's hoarse oath echoed in the cab as she hit the ignition. Her first instinct was to confront Schuester, to beat some answers out of the rotten, low-down traitor. Personal need warred with common sense. As much as she wanted to grill the man for answers, she had to consider Rachel's safety first.

There was nothing lower than a cop on the take. How long had Schuester been on Hudson's payroll? How long had the man been dirty? Long enough to have orchestrated Maggie's disappearance and death? Quinn ground her teeth in frustration, clenching the steering wheel and slamming the truck into gear while mentally vowing to get some long-overdue answers.

They heard shouts behind them as they sped down the street, but lost sight of the house when they turned at the next intersection. They were both too busy checking for other threats to worry about the stranded agents.

Sure enough, the green SUV pulled from the curb as soon as they hit the connecting street. Quinn pushed the accelerator to the floor. "Puck and Max."

"I saw them," Rachel said grimly, pulling a semiautomatic out of her bag. It looked big and heavy in her small palm, but she handled it skillfully, checking the load and flipping the safety.

When they turned onto a nearly deserted, straight stretch of road, Rachel opened the passenger window. "Swerve to the right," she ordered.

Quinn shot her an incredulous look. "And give them a clear shot at you? Hell no."

"Give _me_ a clear shot at them," Rachel spat back.

"You're a better marksman?" Quinn scoffed.

"I'm good. Now, swerve."

Quinn did as she asked, veering the truck to the right so Rachel could have a straight shot at the SUV gaining on them. Quinn heard her squeeze off four successive shots, and then she swung back into the cab and stayed low.

There was no return fire.

She steadied the truck again, changed lanes, and then glanced in the rearview mirror. One of Rachel's shots had shattered the windshield of the SUV, but Puck hadn't slowed his pursuit. Quinn knew how skilled he was at the wheel.

"Hudson wants you alive."

"For a while at least," she agreed. "He always has a mast plan and his own agenda."

They hit the green light at the next intersection and turned into heavy, two-lane traffic. Another look in the mirror showed Puck running a red light, but steam was starting to roll from beneath the hood of the SUV.

"Did you puncture the radiator?" Quinn asked, impressed.

"That's where I aimed," Rachel said, lifting her head long enough to check behind them. "I figured it would be the fastest way to disable the car."

"You're right."

Within a few minutes, the tailing vehicle was engulfed in a cloud of steam.

"They'll have to slow down now."

Quinn took advantage of the pursuing vehicle's problems and wove in and out of rush-hour traffic until she had put a good distance between them and other pursuers. After traveling several more miles, she thought they had probably lost the SUV. Quinn turned her attention to her passenger again. "What now?"

"I have a contingency plan," Rachel stated matter-of-factly.

"Glad to hear it." Her tone and expression were harsh. "Care to fill me in?"

Rachel didn't respond right away, but she eased herself upright and faced forward, pulling her seatbelt around her. If we get on the interstate and head south, I know a small town where we can stop over and switch vehicles again."

"Another safe house?" Quinn asked, not sure if that would be a good idea with everything that has happened.

Rachel's lips tightened. "At this point, I'm not trusting my life to the agency. I will find my own safe place and then make new arrangements with Berry."

"And what do you figure my role will be in your alternative plan?" Quinn grumbled, her hopes for a speedy return to Colorado fading fast.

Tension sizzled in the silence that followed. They both knew she didn't want any further involvement, but she had promised Berry to keep Rachel safe until she had adequate protection. Quinn didn't make idle promises, and this one had just taken on a whole new perspective.

"That's up to you," Rachel replied. "You can drop me off in Hendersonville or you can accompany me to my destination."

Quinn sighed inaudibly. "Which is?"

Rachel stared forward. "Ultimately, Kentucky."

"What's in Kentucky?"

"It's not what's there, but who and what _aren't _there," Rachel clarified.

"Hudson and the strong arms of his organization?" Quinn concluded.

"Right."

Quinn had little alternative than to follow Rachel's plan of action. It grated that she had been so close to making her solitary getaway, but she couldn't just dump the other woman alongside the road. She would have to stick with Rachel until alternative plans could be coordinated with Berry.

Reining her frustration, Quinn focused her thoughts on Schuester, mentally reexamining every aspect of the agent's participation in Maggie's last assignment. Not for the first time, Quinn wished that she knew more about that went wrong that day. The lack of details was a constant thorn in her side.

They drove through the late afternoon with minimal conversation, each lost in thought. Much to her annoyance, Quinn once again grew increasingly aware of her sexy, enigmatic companion. She became attuned to every subtle move Rachel made, and Quinn's nerves jangled when any part of the smaller woman shifted closer to her. _Get a grip, Fabray. She's just a girl_, she tried in vain to tell herself.

They passed a car with a kid mushing his face against the window, and Rachel chuckled softly. The sound pierced through her armor, making her feel things that weren't safe to feel.

Despite Quinn's fundamental longing for a woman, she knew better than to get physically or emotionally tangled with this one. She was trouble with a capital _T._ Rachel represented everything Quinn knew she should avoid – federal bureaucracy, undercover activities, and Finn Hudson's criminal dealings.

And she was Hudson's lover. The circumstances were strange, to be sure, but that still made her off limits. Quinn tried not to focus on Rachel's quiet, undemanding presence or wonder what she was thinking and feeling.

To keep her thoughts off her hormones and her companion, Quinn replayed the events of the day over and over in her mind.

She wondered if St. James was as dirty as Schuester. They had seemed surprised to see her at the safe house, so Berry must have kept her involvement a secret.

How much of the agency's security had been compromised? Schuester had been an agent for years. How much money did it take to buy someone's soul? How much to make him betray his comrades or sign death warrants for coworkers?

How widespread was the corruption? She wanted a few words with Berry, but she didn't want to make contact through the agency. Quinn would wait and call his home number later. It was long past the time for some answers.

Frustrated with her own thoughts, Quinn's attention turned to Rachel. The other woman lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck, the first small indication of weariness. She had to be exhausted, yet she hadn't uttered a word of complaint.

In profile, she looked deceptively young and innocent. Her lashes had a pretty, feminine sweep of curl. The soft curve of her cheek made her look almost delicate when you couldn't see the stubborn set of her chin or the iron determination in her eyes.

She was a paradox, to be sure, one that challenged Quinn more than any woman had done for several years now. _She's off limits,_ she reminded herself sternly, turning her gaze back to the road.

* * *

**A/N: Poor Quinn...Will she ever get control of her wayward feelings? Who is Rachel and how could she sleep with disgusting Finn? Who else is going to try to kill them? More to come in chapter 3!**

**I hope you guys liked it! I will be back with chapter 3 at some point (hopefully soon, but I make no promises).**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Salutations!**

**Happy marriage equality, my fellow Americans! I know, I'm a little late, but still! Yippee! :D**

**Also, happy belated Independence Day to everyone here in the USA as well!**

**Everyone needs to see _Jurassic World_, too, by the way. It is so awesome and, in my opinion, the only _true _sequel to the original so far.**

**Thanks, everyone, for your reviews! I'm so glad you're all enjoying it so far! I haven't had time to get to personally responding to everyone, but I will try to rectify that soon! :)**

**Without further babbling, the newest chapter!**

* * *

They reached Hendersonville just as the sun was setting. Rachel gave Quinn directions to a small, private storage unit. One there, she produced a key to unlock one of the garage stalls. Quinn lifted the overhead door and triggered an automatic light switch. They did a quick check of the space, and then Rachel climbed into a small car and stared the engine. Quinn stepped aside while she backed out of the narrow space.

Now it was decision time. Quinn could either send Rachel on her way alone or break her self-made promise not to get more deeply involved. Even as she cursed her own streak of chivalry, Quinn knew there really wasn't any choice. Call her a sentimental fool, but she couldn't just desert Rachel while she was being hunted by the likes of Hudson. Despite her disapproval of Rachel's methods, the smaller woman _was_ trying to bring Hudson to justice.

As soon as Rachel had cleared the building, Quinn hopped into the truck and drove it into the storage unit. After grabbing their bags, she pulled the door back down and secured it. She had planned to drive the rental back to Colorado, but she would have to take care of that later. Now it could be recognized.

When Rachel approached to relock the storage unit, their gazes tangled and awareness crackled between them. Her expression softened with gratitude. The slight chink in her steadfast armor pierced Quinn with unreasonable pleasure, but she hardened herself against the emotion.

"I promised Berry that I would stick with you until you were safe," she said, making light of her decision.

Rachel nodded, accepting her statement without comment. When she moved close enough to grab her bag from the taller woman, every inch of Quinn's body reacted to her warmth and scent. She clenched her fists to keep from touching the enchanting agent and searched for something to break the tension.

Turning, Quinn took a good look at their new transportation. Then she cocked a disbelieving brow. "Really? Pink? You expect us to hide in a _pink_ car?"

"It's _mauve_," Rachel insisted, and for a brief instant Quinn thought she could sense the other woman's urge to stamp her foot for emphasis. "And it's perfect. Who would ever believe we were on the run in a mauve economy car?"

"Certainly not me," Quinn grumbled, but she couldn't argue with her logic. Neither Hudson nor the FBI would be searching for a compact sedan – let alone a pink one.

"I'll drive," Rachel said as she headed for the driver's side and stowed her bag in the back seat. "You have to be getting tired, and I am used to driving in the mountains."

Quinn hid her smile and didn't point out the fact that she herself lived right by the Rockies and the Smokies were nothing compared to them. She just moved to the passenger side and threw her bag in beside Rachel's. The space was cramped, the bucket seat low, but Quinn didn't complain as she slid the seat back and lifted it up a little until she was comfortable. Rachel did the same, except for sliding the seat back, and they were on their way again.

Hendersonville was little more than a crossroads with a couple of streetlights. Traffic was minimal. They found a convenience store, made use of the bathrooms, and filled a thermos with coffee.

Rachel bought a variety of supplies, making Quinn wonder where she planned to take them. Another safe house? A rental? The home of a friend or family member? Quinn hoped it was someplace she could safely leave her and head back to Colorado with a clear conscience.

Rachel stood by while Quinn used a pay phone to call Berry's private number. There was no answer, so she left a short, terse message on the answering machine. Schuester is your mole. We are on the run, but we lost our tail and Phantom is okay." She hung up the phone and went back to the car.

Though rarely comfortable with another driver, Quinn climbed into the passenger seat again, and Rachel drove back onto the highway. Quinn remained tense for the first few miles, but soon she realized that the other woman could handle car with the same ease she did everything else. Was there no end to her talents? Quinn relaxed a little, deciding to pry some information out of her cohort.

"Berry told me you were in deep, but he didn't hint at how deep. My reaction to your identity could have got us both killed." _That's some icebreaker, Quinn. Way to go_, she thought sarcastically.

"Rookie mistake," Rachel taunted.

The barb stung, but Quinn knew she deserved it. "_Retiree_ mistake," she correctly sharply.

"Whatever." Rachel's voice held a teasing note, making Quinn wonder if superwoman might have a sense of humor.

"So," Quinn began again with a side glance at her driver, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably, "How did you manage a marriage proposal?"

Rachel hesitated briefly, but then explained. "Finn wants legitimacy and the image of a normal, healthy lifestyle. I played the part of an impoverished but highly eligible socialite with a pedigreed background."

"The perfect bait?" Quinn supplied, cocking her brow.

Her features tightened mutinously, making Quinn realize how disparaging her tone had sounded.

"It worked."

The succinct reply held a touch of hurt and made Quinn feel ignoble. She cursed herself for not being more diplomatic. Rachel had been under a tremendous amount of strain, yet it bugged Quinn to think of any woman offering herself as bait to a man with so few scruples. Her deception would be all the more personal and galling to an egomaniac like Hudson.

Was Rachel a total rebel? Some power-hungry lunatic who enjoyed living on the edge? Who thrived on danger? Had she not realized that she would be flirting with certain death if he ever got his hands on her again?

A mental image of Hudson touching her made Quinn grind her teeth. She didn't want her protective instincts roused, yet Rachel kept getting under her skin.

She had had to ask. "Why did you move in with him?"

"I had to have unlimited access to the estate without him watching my every move. I tried for weeks while we were dating, but finally decided there was no other way," she replied matter-of-factly.

Quinn made an effort to sound curious rather than accusing. "So why you? Why would you put yourself in such a dangerous, compromising situation? Just to prove yourself with the agency?"

The silence stretched until Quinn thought she had crossed a line and pushed too far. Finally, Rachel responded in a tight voice. "We all have our crosses to bear, Fabray. I have my reasons, but they have nothing to do with proving myself or advancing my career. I cannot be bought and I'm not motivated by greed or glory, so that's all you need to know."

Quinn cursed the fact that Rachel's passionate response only served to make her more curious. Wanting to relieve some of the tension, she suggested, "How about a change of subject?"

"That's okay by me," Rachel said. "Why don't you tell me about yourself. Where is home for you now? That's not classified information, is it?"

"Far from it." Quinn remembered how well-informed Berry had seemed about her current lifestyle. "I live in Evergreen, CO, only about 40 minutes from Denver."

The small bit of casually supplied personal information caused Rachel's rigid posture to relax somewhat. Her shoulders sagged a little, and Quinn wondered how she was handling the unrelenting stress.

"I've always been curious about Colorado but I've never been there," Rachel said, then asked tentatively, "Is that where you grew up?"

Quinn shook her head. "I grew up everywhere. I was a military brat." The desire to see Rachel at ease had Quinn offering details about her private life. "Both of my parents were Air Force officers. We move around a lot, but I spent my early childhood and most of my summer vacations with my grandparents in Colorado. My grandma was a professor at Colorado State and instilled the love of reading in me, and I've always found the mountains to be calming, a place for reflection. So, it really was not a hard decision to move to Colorado and open my own small bookshop when I retired from Uncle Sam's employ."

Her grandpa had been a decorated Second World War veteran. From the time Quinn was old enough to listen, she had heard tales of the war, the cost of freedom, and every American's duty to serve his/her country. They had watched old movies and cheered when justice triumphed over evil. Quinn had hung onto every word of her grandpa's lectures, vowing to live by the same high principles. She had taken it all to heart – but it had nearly cost her her soul.

"Did your parents retire to Colorado, too?" Rachel asked. Her tone sounded wistful, and Quinn studied her profile. What did Rachel's family think about her career? Maybe she didn't have anyone. That might explain why she had been willing to risk her life for a job.

"Dad died about four years ago, and Mom remarried. She and her new husband are stationed in Germany right now."

"Sounds like she's really dedicated to the service."

"Yeah, that's how I was raised. Everything is right or wrong, black or white, with no in-betweens. That's why I got fed up with the FBI."

"Too many shades of gray?" Rachel asked in a tone that suggested she really understood.

Quinn swallowed the lump quickly forming in her throat. "Yeah, way too much gray," she murmured softly.

They were quiet for a few miles, each lost in thought, and then Rachel spoke again. "Leroy said you left because you lost a partner and blamed the agency. Is that true?"

Quinn stared out the window, watching the scenery flash past as her memories fixed on Maggie. She had been more than a partner. So much more. Impotent rage still churned in Quinn when she dwelled on the unfairness of her death.

"Maggie went undercover while I was on leave for Dad's funeral. She went in alone, but with standard backup from the agency. She understood the risks," Quinn bit out bitterly, willing herself not to let the tears burning the backs of her eyes spill over.

Logically, Quinn knew that she might not have been able to save Maggie, but emotionally, she still felt responsible for not being there for her lover and friend. After years of trying, Quinn had finally realized that she could not be content until the man responsible for her death was brought to justice.

Rachel broached her next question softly and cautiously. "The records suggest that she might have turned bad."

"That's a filthy lie!" Quinn snarled, making Rachel jump and go tense again.

Quinn tempered her next words, but they still quivered with underlying fury. "That's what pisses me off the most. An agent gives her life for her country, and what does she get in return? A damn blight on her record? Rumors that she was on the take? That's why I hate the freaking politics. The FBI lost an agent, so they try to save face by suggesting that _she's_ the one at fault!"

A thick silence fell in the car, but the unbridled strength of Quinn's emotion pulsed between them, intimately binding them in its intensity. Quinn took a deep breath, uncurled the fingers she had fisted, and forced herself to relax again. It was futile to give in to the long-simmering frustration.

Her loss of control unnerved her and made her realize just how exhausted she was. Otherwise, she would not be wasting time and energy on useless venting.

Rachel spared her a glance. "That's the gray part you hated so much?" she asked quietly.

Quinn scoffed and nodded. "Enough to make me call it quits."

Rachel nodded, and something about the small, supportive action clutched at Quinn's heart. It had been a long time since anyone had really cared or understood her feelings. She needed to shut the shorter woman out before she had a chance to undermine all of Quinn's good intentions of keeping their relationship strictly platonic and professional.

"I think I'll take a nap," she quipped, turning her attention from the driver to the window and wrapping her arms around her chest as she tried to get comfortable.

* * *

Rachel kept her attention on the winding, mountainous road, but stayed alert to every move and sound her passenger made. Fabray had tried to sleep sitting up against the window, but after some fidgeting, Rachel heard her huff, recline the seat, and stretch out as much as she could, finally getting comfortable using her arm as a pillow.

The tension in the car eased along with her, like the cleansed calm after a storm.

"Are you sure you're alright to drive?" Quinn asked suddenly, not moving from her position.

"Positive," Rachel responded with a resolute nod, still too wired to relax. "I rested earlier."

"Good. I haven't slept in thirty-six hours and definitely could use a little catnap."

Rachel fought the urge to smile. Quinn did look a bit like a cat, stretched out on the seat next to her. "I imagine you could. Will it bother you if I listen to some CDs?" Music was one of her greatest passions. At one point in her life, it _was _her greatest passion. She loved how music could transcend space and time, transporting her into another world, at least for a few minutes, and allow her to escape the harsh realities of her life without disconnecting her from it entirely. "Our radio reception won't be very reliable for a while."

"Music doesn't bother me unless it's that rap stuff."

"No rap or heavy metal, I promise."

"Happy to hear it."

There was just a hint of teasing in Quinn's tone. It surprised and warmed Rachel, so she responded in kind. "Then, go to sleep. If I get drowsy, I will wake you."

"You better."

Her comment sounded more like a command. Rachel shook her head but didn't respond. What was it with Quinn that she always wanted to be the one in charge? Rachel thought. She recognized and could tolerate that attitude as long as it suited her purposes.

About thirty minutes outside of Hendersonville, Rachel heard her breathing turn slow and steady. The sound of Quinn's soft snoring was strangely comforting, which worried Rachel. It made her wonder at her own reactions to the FBI legend.

Rachel had been shocked by her physical response during the brief moments she had spent in the taller woman's arms on the dance floor. She had held her own emotions under rigid control for so long that she had begun to feel like a robot. The prickle of attraction had been so alien that she almost hadn't recognized it. Now that she had, it had become an unwelcome complication.

Being cooped up in their current tight quarters stirred her sense again. Heat radiated from Quinn, enveloping her. There was something about the way the other woman was soft and feminine and yet at the same time was strong and stubborn that tugged at something deep inside Rachel, something she couldn't quite analyze.

As Rachel felt herself heat up more than her liking with the other woman in such close proximity, she decided that a compact car wasn't such a good idea, but she hadn't given a thought to prospective passengers when she had bought it. She had been something of a recluse for more than ten years now, and her lifestyle didn't allow much time for long-term relationships, or any relationship for that matter. Her greatest strength was the ability to function in any given situation while maintaining emotional distance – protected in her own insular little world.

So why was she having such a strong reaction to this woman?

Quinn Fabray's service record had fascinated her from the beginning – dedication to duty coupled with a renegade personality. She had been both praised and damned by her peers, but her devotion to job and country had never been in doubt. The fact that Leroy Berry trusted her implicitly was testimony enough to her integrity.

That didn't mean Rachel fully trusted her. Rachel had been alone for too many years, fiercely independent, working toward one goal with steadfast, obsessive determination.

Did she find Quinn attractive because she represented an end to her self-imposed isolation? Or because Quinn represented all that she had given up to accomplish her goal? Rachel was twenty-eight and had bypassed the usual coming-of-age flirtations – the dating games and variety of partners most people took for granted. She had never trusted anyone with her heart or her body, and she didn't plan to start now. She had also given up her dream of Broadway, a future she believed as a child that she was destined for, but now knew only as a _might've been _fantasy.

As a teenager, she had had a serious crush on an upperclassman who was starring alongside her in her school's production of _Anything Goes_. Her family had been in the witness protection program because her dad testified against his former boss, Finn Hudson. They had feared their location had been compromised and wanted to move, but she had begged to stay for the opening night of _Anything Goes_. It had cost her mom, dad, and brother their lives before she even finished putting on her first costume. Since then, she hadn't let anyone get too close, nor had she let anyone or anything interfere with her quest for justice.

To Finn, she had been a possession, a means to an end, just another collector's item. She had told him she wouldn't have sex until they were married. It had been a condition of their engagement, and he had agreed. He had other women, but they were more than welcome to his amorous advances.

People like Quinn – beautiful, smart, and reeking of sex appeal – usually had a bevy of partners vying for attention. She could even have a husband or lover or significant other. She glanced at Quinn's left hand. She didn't wear a wedding or engagement ring, but that could be for any number of reasons. Why hadn't she thought to ask when the other woman had been talking about her family?

It annoyed Rachel that she had missed the opportunity to pry some more. Quinn had been unexpectedly forthcoming about her parents, her dead partner, and her grievances with the agency. Her exhaustion had probably contributed to her candor, but it wouldn't hurt to give it another try when she woke.

Rachel gazed into the unending darkness of the mountains, broken only by her headlights and an infrequent passing car. For the most part, the skies were cloudy with random glimpses of a star-studded sky. The slivered moon did little to illuminate the winding, ascending road.

She didn't mind the darkness. Her thoughts were equally dark. Over the next couple of hours, she reviewed the past six months in her mind – the conversations she had overheard, the records she had unearthed, and the security she had breached. With her testimony, they could put Finn Hudson behind bars for the rest of his life.

It had taken every ounce of courage she had possessed and a strength born of necessity to carry out the assignment. Pretending to accept his proposal and moving into his home had taken nerves of steel, but she had sworn to make him pay for destroying her family. That pledge had seen her through the worst of it.

In her mind's eye, she projected the image of her mother, dad, and brother. It was a vision that comforted her in times of extreme stress. They had been the axis of her world until Finn Hudson had ordered their deaths. If she had been a little stronger, a little wiser, or a better person, she could have prevented what happened. The knowledge ate at her like a disease. The only way she knew to counteract the guilt was to make Hudson pay for his crimes.

No jury in the country would fault her for the engagement deception. Not once they heard the whole truth. She and Leroy were banking on that fact. There was no way their undercover operation could be labeled entrapment. Hudson's corruption dated back too many years to afford him that defense.

_We have him. We have him. We have him. _The litany ran through her mind like the constant spinning of the car's wheels. _We have him. We have him._

When Rachel realized that she was becoming mesmerized by the sound of her thoughts, she reached out and touched Quinn's arm. Heat and strength. The warmth of another human being. The comfort it offered unnerved her a little because it was so unexpected. It was a pleasure she rarely enjoyed with anyone but her adoptive parents. The contact soothed her, subduing the painful turbulence of her memories.

Her passenger stirred, yawned, and glanced up at her. Rachel watched her in her peripheral vision, feeling her own body come awake with tingling alertness as Quinn uncoiled herself and straightened her seat.

They had reached the peak of the mountains, shrouded in late-night fog. Rachel dimmed her lights to cut through the haze, and then spoke to Quinn.

"There's a roadside rest area a few miles ahead. I thought we might get out, take a break, and stretch out legs. I'm started to get numb."

"Sounds good," she mumbled.

Quinn's voice was so low and husky and incredibly sexy that it snapped Rachel's senses to attention. A tremor of reaction crackled along her spine. It was a quick fix to her lethargy.

"Is there any of that coffee left?" Quinn asked, looking toward the center console.

"About a cupful, but it's only lukewarm," Rachel responded, handing the other woman the thermos, and then wrapping her fingers around the steering wheel.

"I want to try to reach Leroy again if the payphone's working at the rest area." Rachel had already decided to call, but threw out the comment for conversation's sake.

Quinn nodded. "I don't mind waking him in the middle of the night. I actually hope he's sound asleep. I owe him one." After all, Berry had called her at four a.m. to request her help.

"Even if someone traces the call, there's no way to pinpoint our exact location," Rachel expanded. "Once we clear the mountains, we could go in any direction."

Quinn nodded again and arched a brow. "Do you have a specific destination in Kentucky or is it just an unlikely spot for someone to find?"

Rachel deliberated, but then decided to trust her even further. "I'm familiar with the Cumberland Lake area, so that's where I'm headed."

"A resort lake?" Quinn asked incredulously.

"Yes, miles and miles of man-made lake. It's all buried in a deep valley between jagged, boulder-lined hills topped with a thick wall of evergreen trees," she explained.

Understanding lit up Quinn's features. "A nice place to get lost?"

"That's what I'm hoping." Once upon a time, Rachel craved to be known by everyone everywhere and to see her name in lights. Now, she wanted nothing more than to disappear, to fade away into the background after months of constantly being in the spotlight and on display.

The rest area was nearly deserted as they pulled to a stop in the parking lot. Rachel climbed from the car, grabbed her back, and headed for the restroom with Quinn close beside her. They parted ways in the women's restroom, with Quinn going into the handicap stall and Rachel opting to tidy herself up before using the toilet.

She splashed some water on her face at the sink, brushed her teeth, and restored some order to her hair. It took a while, but she managed to tame some of the spiky tufts of the punk hairstyle. The result wasn't very flattering, but it was a whole lot less noticeable. The last thing she wanted to do at this point was draw attention to herself.

Feeling more human, Rachel used the toilet and then went back outside to wait for Quinn at the payphone. When Quinn rejoined her a few minutes later, Rachel saw that she wasn't the only one who had used the time to freshen up a little. Quinn's hair was damp and unexpectedly blonde, having taken the opportunity to rid herself of the red wig. Rachel's admiring gaze traced the smooth curve of Quinn's lips. _Such a soft, sexy mouth_, she thought, then shook her head of that thought. _Focus, Rachel!_

Quinn had already dialed the number and was greeting Berry when Rachel stepped closer. Their gazes met, and Rachel was taken aback by the stunning hazel of her eyes. Quinn had shed the deep green contacts, altering her appearance even more. The clarity of the blonde's steady gaze caused Rachel to shiver. It felt as though Quinn could see right into her soul, and she knew it wasn't a very pure place.

Quinn turned the receiver to that they could both hear.

"I got your earlier message," said Berry. "But Schuester's dead. Killed by St. James. According to him, Will pulled a weapon and tried to shoot at you when you left the safe house. They scuffled over the gun and Will was fatally shot."

Quinn and Rachel exchanged frowning glances, neither sure what the latest twist could mean.

Quinn was the first to speak. "You'll be watching St. James?"

"For sure, and we will do some serious checking on Schuester's record. I will personally interrogate everyone he's worked with."

"When are you having Hudson arrested?" Quinn asked.

"First think Monday morning, but there's a glitch. His lawyers will demand he be released on bail, and there's a good chance we won't be able to keep him long.

"What about his flight risk?" insisted Rachel, her heart sinking at the word _glitch_. Finn wouldn't want to leave his little empire or the U.S., but once he realized how damning the evidence was against him, he had the money and the connections to disappear. "I thought once we had him jailed, we could keep him there indefinitely."

"I did, too, but as soon as you disappeared today, eh made a public announcement that you had been kidnapped. He's conducting a media circus, featuring himself as the devastated fiancé who's bravely coping with a great tragedy.

The information had Quinn and her staring at each other in disbelief.

"So that's his master plan," Rachel whispered. "He wants the world to believe that I've been kidnapped. That way he gains a lot of sympathy without having to deal with me himself."

"He also gains the means to get us permanently out of his hair," Quinn added grimly. "That's why it was so easy. He has been playing us all along. If we turn up dead, then he will have an alibi, someone to blame for your murder. Then, if I'm conveniently killed by one of his men, the murder will seem justified."

"You're probably right, but that won't help him against the indictment," said Berry.

"He's not aware of that yet," Rachel reminded. "We're still the only ones with access to that information, aren't we?"

"Yes, and that has to stay a secret until I get the arrest and search warrants. If not, then there's a risk of him fleeing. Meanwhile, he's playing the media for all it's worth. I'll have to publicly acknowledge your identity or risk having a judge release him on bail," explained Berry.

"How bad is the risk for Phantom if you expose her identity?" Quinn asked. "Hudson must know she's a federal agent by now."

"Even if he does, it won't keep him from putting a contract out on both of you. Her disappearance threatens her standing with the bureau, since we don't have her in protective custody. If I can't verify her whereabouts, then that leaves us without a witness who can support the indictment."

"You're suggesting we come to D.C.?"

"Are you staying with her?"

"I said that I would."

Quinn's tone was getting harsher by the minute. Rachel studied her fierce expression and wondered what concerned the blonde the most – the risk to Rachel's safety, the risk of weakening their case, or the thought of prolonging her own involvement. It worried Rachel that she was beginning to care about Quinn's motives.

Berry took his time answering. "No. I will swear that I know where she is being held. You two disappear for a few days until we see how this is going to play out. Keep in touch with me through this number. If I'm forced to produce a witness, then we will worry about additional security then."

They ended the call and Quinn replaced the receiver. Only then did Rachel realize how close the two of them were standing. Her right shoulder and arm were pressed firmly against Quinn's side, the heat of the other woman permeating the thin layers of her clothes. It seemed so natural, yet disturbing. Rachel had an unprecedented urge to press closer, and that wouldn't do at all.

Once they stepped apart, Rachel felt a chill and shivered.

"You're cold. We need to get back to the car," Quinn insisted, surprising Rachel when she wrapped an arm around her as they moved toward the parking lot.

Rachel's first instinct was to shift from the warmth of her touch. She didn't want to seem weak or needy, but she _was_ cold and tired and trying to ward off an emotional collapse. She had been warned by bureau psychologists about a dramatic letdown after an undercover assignment.

Maybe she would be wise to accept the little impersonal support. Just as long as it remained impersonal. So far, she and the renegade retiree were making a pretty good team.

Quinn offered to drive, but Rachel insisted that she would rather continue until they were through the mountains. She drove while Quinn caught a few more hours of rest. Then they exchanged places, but Rachel still wasn't able to sleep.

They shared a comfortable silence, passing the time listening to music and studying the darkness beyond the windows of the car. Rachel had picked up a map at the rest area, so she navigated them through southern Kentucky. By daybreak, they were nearing their destination.

"Where are we heading now?" Quinn inquired lightly.

"I think Somerset is one of the largest towns in the lake area," Rachel said. "It's not too big, but it offers the basics. If I remember correctly, there are several docks, and check-in times at the marinas are about the same as most hotels."

Quinn shot her a confused glance. "Marinas?"

"I'm planning to rent a houseboat if there's one available," she explained, glancing at the blonde and wondering if she was going to bail out on her now. "The lake is huge, so you can disappear for days at a time without anyone checking up on you."

Both of Quinn's eyebrows shot up at that information. "You can actually stay out on the water?"

Rachel nodded and hid her smile at the utter amazement in the other woman's voice. "It's been years since I was there, but I remember cruising around until we needed to refuel. At night, we would set the anchor near the shoreline and stay put. Either way, you avoid contact with civilization."

"You've vacationed there in the past?" Quinn asked, her tone one of genuine curiosity.

"Once, a long time ago." The thought made Rachel melancholy, but she tried to shrug it off. "How about you? Are you interested in staying or do you want to head on home? I don't see any possible way I can be traced now, so you don't need to feel obligated.

Quinn shook her head and Rachel saw her grip tighten on the steering wheel. "I said I'll stick with you until Berry makes other arrangements."

"But what about your family? Don't you need to get home to a husband or kids or partner of some sort?"

Quinn shot her a teasing grin. " 'Partner of some sort'?"

Rachel just rolled her eyes. "Partner, as in significant other or anyone who expects you home soon."

"Fishing for more details about my private life, hm?" Quinn quipped, smirking.

This woman really could be maddening. Rachel gritted her teeth. "I think it's important that I know the basics," she insisted.

"What you see is what you get," Quinn finally said. "I don't have to account to anyone for my whereabouts. Not even Berry, since I already honored my promise to help you escape Hudson's estate."

"So, what do you do? Just risk your life for kicks?"

Quinn's light chuckle rippled over Rachel like a sweet, sexy melody. Her heart thudded uncharacteristically. She scolded herself for the foolish reaction, realizing how desperately she needed sleep.

"No, I'm self-employed and run my own little bookstore, which I've told you before, although you obviously weren't paying attention," Quinn explained, her tone teasing and eyes sparkling with good humor, making Rachel blush and curse herself for forgetting that detail of the blonde's life. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

No way would Rachel ever consider Quinn to be ordinary. She might prefer to think of herself that way, but Rachel couldn't.

"Do you know anything about boating or fishing?" she asked the blonde, abruptly changing the subject.

Quinn just furrowed her brow a bit and replied, "Not much."

Neither did Rachel, but they were intelligent, resourceful women. They could learn.

Conversation lagged as they covered the last hundred miles of their journey. The sun was rising behind them as they reached the outskirts of Somerset.

Their first stop was another convenience store and refueling station. They filled the gas tank and bought souvenir T-shirts. Then they freshened up with a change of shirts to cut the risk of being recognized. They had drastically changed their looks since leaving the coast, but it didn't hurt to cover every angle.

Next, they found a small roadside restaurant and took their time over breakfast and coffee. When the place started to get crowded, they drove into town. Rachel asked Quinn to stop at the local post office.

She stayed in the car while Rachel rented a post office box and bought two padded envelopes. In one, she mailed herself extra cash and a fake driver's license at her personal P.O. box, knowing the post office was the safest place to hide it in case of another emergency.

Rachel used the second envelope to mail all her jewelry to her adoptive aunt Charlotte's address in Maine. It was a risk to mail anything so valuable, but the necklace, bracelet, and rings were all gifts from Finn. They held no sentimental value. If she ever got a chance to sell them, she would make good use of the money, but she wouldn't be destitute if the jewelry got lost or damaged.

They spent the next couple of hours driving around the town and familiarizing themselves with the area. When the stores finally opened, they purchased additional clothing, more groceries, and a few other necessities.

Rachel found a brochure with information on boat rentals, so she called several marinas until she found one with a recent cancellation. After learning that a houseboat was available immediately, they headed for the lake.

"What's the name of the place?" asked Quinn.

"It's called Beaver Creek Resort, and it's near Monticello. There are several marinas with docks and fuel stations, but the only one with an availability is Beaver Creek. This is the height of their tourist season, so we got lucky. I think they said they have one good-size houseboat for rent."

Quinn looked skeptical. "What's good-size?"

Rachel showed her the picture in the brochure. "There are several types, each in a different price range with different amenities and the capacity to sleep a different number of people. I guess ours is over sixty feet long.

"According to the brochure, it features a galley with a gas stove, refrigerator, running water, generator, central heat, AC, microwave, electric lights, deck furniture, gas grill, swimming ladder, power steering, and a sliding board off the top deck."

Quinn whistled softly. "It sounds like a small yacht, and looks like it must be top of the line."

"Nope, top of the line is a lot bigger, sleeps more people, and costs more," Rachel answered cheekily.

Quinn shot a glance at her. "Which brings up the question of how we're going to pay for this rental. I don't carry around that sort of cash, we can't charge it to Uncle Sam, and we sure can't use plastic."

"I have several thousand dollars' worth of cash with me," Rachel told her, earning herself another, longer, sharper look. "When I moved in with Finn, he insisted on giving me an allowance and buying me designer clothes. I have been hoarding the money and even selling a few designer gowns."

Quinn's laugh wasn't pleasant. "So your lover is paying for our little hideout."

Rachel managed to keep her temper reined, but just barely. "He and all the people he's swindled out of money, including Uncle Sam," she returned succinctly.

The reminder of Hudson cranked the tension between them again, so they grew silent, speaking only about directions. The road that led to the marina was sharply winding, and they drove downhill at a forty-five degree angle for more than fifteen minutes before Quinn complained.

"Are you sure this dock isn't in China?" she asked, as they kept going downward, mile after mile, in the seemingly endless spiral of a roller coaster.

"I told you the lake was carved out of solid rock. It takes a while to get down to the water."

Rachel hoped the high rock walls would be an added barrier between them and Finn's far-reaching network of criminals.

* * *

**A/N: So. Much. UST. Will Rachel get a hold of her wayward feelings? Will Quinn ever realize that Rachel didn't sleep with nasty, old Finn? Will they be tracked here too? Find out next time!**

**I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Chapter 4 to come...whenever it's done.**

**Bye!**


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